


Coming in from the Cold

by KareUta



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Developing Friendships, F/M, Life on the ring, Post-Season/Series 04, Pre-Season/Series 05, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, spacekru
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 13:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15909285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KareUta/pseuds/KareUta
Summary: Certain that Skaikru want as little to do with her as possible, the most Echo can do is put her head down and work hard to keep from being a greater burden than she already is. After all, Echo's never had friends, or family, before, and she reckons that five years in space is unlikely to change all that. Still, Echo's been wrong in the past.





	1. Day 0

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing fan fiction in about five years! With so little of the six year time jump explored during Season 5, I feel like there's a lot that could be said about that time and how friendships and relationships developed so here's my take on it!

Echo’s hands slipped inside of her gloves, partly because they were too big and, partly, because of the growing sweatiness of her palms inside of them. Her eyes were burning, stinging with frustration as she struggled with the harnesses on her seat. With a growing panic, her chest started rising and falling at an increasingly fast pace. She stifled her breathing, her breaths hitching in the back of her throat. She couldn’t do this, she couldn’t breathe like this, not when Raven said... 

“Here, let me,” Harper said, placing her hands over the strap and clasps. Echo lifted her gaze to her, watching her from beneath her lashes. She’d helped her before; she’d helped her when she could barely stand, letting her lean on her as they got to the rover when she and Monty came for them. 

“What’s it like?” she asked. She hated herself for the tremor that resonated in her voice. Harper looked at her, her expression softening when faced with her fear. “Being in space,” she elaborated quickly, “what’s it like?” 

One look at her and Harper knew that that wasn’t her only fear. She mustered a smile, “You’ll be fine,” she said. She took Echo’s hands in hers and Echo could feel the sting of her glove pressing into the self-inflicted cut on her palm. “Just, when Raven says brace,” she placed her hands on either side of her seat, curling her fingers around it, “brace.” 

Echo pursed her lips together, nodding firmly. Harper smiled, patting her on the shoulder. As she rose to her feet, before she could leave, Echo grabbed her arm, gaining her attention. Immediately she realised she had done so with too much strength, trembling as she may have been, but Harper didn’t look at her with fear or judgement, just concern. “Thank you,” she said, quickly. The world was ending and they could die; she needed her to know she appreciated her efforts and, that if all else failed, she was grateful. 

Harper’s smile grew and she nodded, returning to her seat beside Monty.


	2. Day 0

After they were finished gathering their breath, they each rose to their feet, slowly at first. 

“Home Sweet Home,” Murphy reiterated his earlier words, looking down the dark corridor. 

Echo followed his gaze, taking in her surroundings. Even through her suit, she could feel the chill making its way down into her bones. Perhaps the place was cold or, perhaps, it was the fear. 

The others spoke amongst themselves while Emori and herself remained quiet. They were both equally confused, trying to take in what would be their home for the next five years, but neither of them looked to the other. 

Raven slipped out of her suit before disappearing down the corridor, instructing them to fill their canisters with oxygen, just in case, as she left. The lights flickered on and off and the hum in the distance got louder. 

“We’ll head to Medical first,” Raven said, out of breath as she returned. 

She wasn’t really sure what that meant, or what the purpose of it was, but, instead of asking questions, she followed the others quietly. She imagined the next five years was going to be a lot like this; watching them lead the way, trying to take in everything around her as she followed. 

The lights inside Medical were bright white and blinding—when they weren’t flickering— and caused her eyes to sting and her head to ache. 

While Raven did whatever it was that she did best, others stood around and waited, taking in their surroundings just as much as she was. When they worked their way out of their suits, she pulled herself to the side and started to do the same, tugging her shirt down over her stomach, concealing the bloody hand print. Bellamy knew what her intentions had been and, with being as smart as she was, she reckoned Raven knew as well. The others, on the other hand, were oblivious, and she intended to keep it that way. 

It was only when the lights came on again and all distraction of slipping out of her suit was gone that she realised how difficult that was about to be. 

The room was blinding and freezing cold. There was a bed, a reclining chair of some sort, in the middle of the room. There were monitors, smaller than the ones in the lab, with tubing and glistening metal instruments lying everywhere. She leapt in her skin as a tray, as silver as everything else, fell to the ground, causing all the objects it had been carrying to clatter across the floor. Echo felt her heart in her throat. The others laughed it off but she found it impossible to do the same. She’d seen those things before. The small, delicate silver blades. The sharp, pointed needles. The—

Images of Mount Weather flashed before her eyes before she could even consider keeping her mind from going there. She took a step back, then another, and another one after that—even while her legs threatened to give way beneath her. As her back hit the cold wall, her vision blurred and the others faded from her sight. 

“It’s your turn, Echo,” somebody quipped.

She snapped her attention back to them and they soon shifted into focus. “For what?” she asked. 

The others turned their attention to her, then glanced at each other. “Get started,” Bellamy said, looking to Raven, Murphy and Emori. “We’ll finish here and catch up.” 

The three shuffled past her on their way out, unable to keep from glancing in her direction, brows furrowed with curiosity. Bellamy approached, sighing. A hand slipped to the small of her back, though never really made contact, “Hold it together,” he whispered. 

“What are we doing?” she asked. 

“We’re seeing if your body’s adjusting to space,” he said. 

“Can we not?” she asked, stopping in her tracks. She forced humour into her voice, trying to conceal her fear beneath it when faced with Monty and Harper as an audience. If admitting that she wasn’t adjusting—wasn’t coping—was what it took to keep her from getting closer to that bed or those blades and computers, then she would do it. 

Bellamy turned to face her, blocking Monty and Harper from her sight. “It won’t take long and it won’t hurt,” he said. 

Echo crossed her arms over her chest, sinking the tips of her fingers into her arms in her effort to stop her shaking. She could feel a lump forming in the back of her throat and it took everything in her to keep tears from forming in her eyes. “What does it matter?” she asked. Bellamy’s brows furrowed together. “What does it matter if my body isn’t adjusting?” she asked. “I can’t go back to Earth if it isn’t!” 

Bellamy sucked in a deep breath, “There’s—“ 

Harper stepped in, clearing her throat softly, “Monty could use some help checking in on a few things,” she said. With his wounds freshly treated and wrapped in bandages, Monty was on his feet again. “I’ll finish up with Echo and then join you.” 

Reluctant as he was, Bellamy agreed with a nod and the two of them left. 

“Come on,” Harper said, softly. 

“Like I said, we don’t need to do this.”

Harper put an arm behind her and Echo shied away from it, “Yes, we do,” she said. “If you’re not adjusting and it’s left untreated, you could drop dead.”

She could hear the frustration growing in Harper’s voice—it was new and unusual but it’d been a long day—but Echo couldn’t relent. “What does it matter?” she asked.

Harper sighed and her shoulders dropped, “It does matter,” she said. “We’ve already lost one friend today,” she whispered, her voice breaking, “and we can’t bear to lose another.”

Echo felt tears prickle the back of her eyes as she thought of Clarke and the sacrifice she made. She lost her life seeing to it that they lived. She scoffed, a bid to conceal her emotions, “I’m not a friend,” she retorted in a soft voice. 

Harper licked her lips, taking a moment to think before she spoke, “But you could be,” she said. 

The ease with which she said that, the ease with which she made the insinuation that Echo could some day have friends, startled her. It did so long enough to allow Harper to usher her in the direction of the reclining chair without a fight. 

“It doesn’t hurt,” she said. She held up two small discs of some kind, attached to long wires that fed into a machine that was making a long, quiet beeping sound. 

She took a seat when her legs couldn’t carry her any longer, watching Harper’s every move. She’d treated her with nothing but kindness thus far; she didn’t want to believe she was capable of anything else, but she also knew that people didn’t survive what Skaikru did by being kind all the time.

Harper applied one to her own chest first, peeling it away only seconds later, “See? It doesn’t hurt,” she said. 

Echo said nothing, hanging her head and letting Harper do whatever it was she had to do. When she applied the patches on her chest, working around the rash she’d developed from being exposed to praimfaya, it took everything in her to keep from ripping them off. 

The machine beside her began beeping relentlessly. “Your heart’s racing,” Harper noted softly. 

“I feel fine,” she said. It was a lie—she was riddled with fear, anxious and on edge, taking in her surroundings absent courage and without the slightest idea of how she was going to endure it all. 

Harper gave her shoulder a gentle push, “Lie down,” she said. “We’ll stay here until your heart settles.” 

By that logic, Echo thought they’d be there forever. They passed most of the time in silence; Harper treated the palm on her hand, asking no questions, before she handed her a dampened cloth to treat the rash on her chest. Her glances towards the machine became less frequent as the beeping became more rhythmic and, eventually, she peeled the patches off. 

“Has it settled?” she asked in a whisper, pulling herself up. 

“Not entirely,” Harper replied, “but I think that’s normal.” Harper saw her confusion at the sound of that and, though she had every intention of walking away, she paused. “I know you’re scared,” she said, speaking softly, as though as not to shame her, “and that’s all right,” she added. 

Echo couldn’t bring herself to say anything, but, thankfully, Harper didn’t expect her to.


	3. Day 0

The exhaustion sank in as they joined the others, emptying the ship and bringing everything they had packed onto the Ring. Tired as she was, Echo wasn’t about to let herself slow down now; carrying heavy objects and moving them from one place to the next, along with ripping a piece of metal off the wall, was about the only contribution she’d made to their survival. She’d be damned if she was going to make herself anymore useless. 

When they were finished with the unloading, Echo stood there, watching as the others conversed amongst themselves. Amongst the things they’d brought off the ship was her sword and, alone with her thoughts, she couldn’t help but cling to the only thing, other than the clothes on her body, that remained of her life on the ground. 

“Murphy and Emori found the guards’ dorm,” Bellamy said, wiping his tired eyes. “We’ll all share the room until we can sort everything.”

Raven nodded curtly, “Once we know life support is stable, we’ll be able to move around more freely,” she said. 

There were a few mumbles and groans but, frankly, everybody was too exhausted to protest.

Murphy and Emori led the way to what Bellamy called ‘the dorm’ and everybody was quick in choosing their places to sleep. 

There were two beds stacked on top of one another, in something Bellamy called a bunk, and about five sets of them. Murphy and Emori were the first to choose their place on a lower bunk, nestled together, lying in each other’s embrace. Harper and Monty mumbled something about them having the right idea, following their example before long. 

Echo chose the lower bunk closest to the door, mostly because it was the one furthest away from everybody else, and closest to where she already stood. The bedding wasn’t remarkably soft beneath her as she took a seat, though it was infinitely more comfortable than some of the other places she’d slept in over the course of her life. 

She relaxed almost immediately upon, surprising even herself. All of a sudden, the momentary peace that washed over the others had finally bathed her too. When everyone was settled, even Bellamy and Raven who had taken to two lower bunks to the right of the room, Echo finally allowed herself to sit back and breathe a sigh of relief. She was alive. She rested her back against the icy metal wall behind her bed, then, eventually, lowered herself to rest her head against the pillow. 

Pursing her lips together, steadying her breathing, she loosened her hold around her sword and placed it on the ground beside her bed. The sound of metal against metal troubled nobody but Raven and Bellamy, both glancing in her direction. Raven said nothing but Bellamy started his approach towards her, rolling his shoulders back again and not at all alluding to the exhaustion she knew he felt. She found herself following his every move. She couldn’t make out the look in his eyes and couldn’t help but stiffen and hold her breath, depriving her already-aching lungs, unsure of what to expect. 

He crouched beside the bed, laying his hand on her sword, “I’ll hold onto this,” he said. “Can’t have you trying to hurt yourself again.” 

Echo swallowed the lump in her throat and her hand clenched into a fist around the bedding, watching as Bellamy left, taking with him the only thing that remained of life on the ground. It’d seen her through so much, though she doubted it would do her much good up here, with no wars to fight. Perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps. Faced with her own fears, her shaking arms wrapped around herself, ‘perhaps’ was even more difficult to convince herself of than she thought.


	4. Day 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got novels to write, deadlines to meet, but all the anti-Echo and anti-Becho is bringing me down so here's another chapter of the Spacekru we all deserved!

Far from the ground or not, its influence would be felt by Echo for reasons deeper than her upbringing. After hours of being unable to sleep, dwelling on all that she missed about the ground she called home, she finally fell asleep to the sound of the Ring humming in the distance. It was a deep sleep, gripping her mercilessly and keeping her in the depths of darkness, taken by exhaustion. 

The next time there was a break in the darkness, the pain emanating in her head was aggravated by the light that pierced her vision. As a figure leaned over her, she opened her mouth to speak, only for her breath to catch in her throat, a short wheeze and gurgle about the only sound she could make. 

The words that followed were muffled and distant, as though she was submerged in the depths of the ocean, and coming from the figure she’d yet to recognise. Unsure of what was stifling her breathing, the panic forced her to roll over onto her side and her hands scrambled to lift herself up. Quickly, strong hands grabbed her by the arms and helped her sit upright.

When her vision slowly cleared, blurred by tears in her eyes, she could make out the blood at her feet. A quick hand to her face saw the tips of her fingers stained with the same crimson liquid. 

“It’s the radiation,” Bellamy said, eerily close to her. 

It was when the panic at the sight of blood subsided, unaware of what was going on, that she realised his hands were on her. One hand tugged at her hair, keeping it from falling in front of her face, while the other held her by the shoulder.

Placing a damp cloth into her hands, she could feel his eyes burning into her as she wiped away the blood around her nose and mouth. “The others are in Medical,” he said. “Raven’s looking at getting the computers working, hoping there’s something on there that’ll help us treat this.” 

Echo opened her mouth to speak, only to find she couldn’t force the words out. 

Bellamy pulled the cloth from her hand and sighed, “Get some rest,” he said. 

She wanted to argue; she wanted to tell him that she was fine, that she could get up and help them. But nothing about her body was willing to cooperate with her, collapsing, instead, against her pillow once again. Her eyelids were heavy and, coupled with her laboured breathing, made it easy to succumb to the temptation of slumber. 

There was no such thing as restful sleep anymore—not for her. It wasn’t long before that same suffocating sensation returned, stirring her. But, this time, struggle as she might to roll onto her front, she couldn’t find the strength in her arms to lift herself up. Dragging herself to the edge of the bed felt just as impossible and, as the swell of sickness worked its way up her throat, her mouth filled with the taste of copper. 

She was pulled up abruptly, bent over a metal basin that she could only just make out through her blurred vision. When her heaving slowed and she steadied her heavy breathing, the sight of the pool of blood in the basin caused a shiver to run down her spine. 

Echo recoiled as a hand, carrying a damp cloth, approached her face, only to be held in place by the arm across her back. The cloth enveloped her nose and mouth, rough in its attempt at cleaning her up. When it pulled away, she blinked until she could make out the face of the man beside her; Murphy. Sucking in a deep breath, her features flushing at the sound of the blood in the back of her throat, she clenched her fingers around the bedding. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

Murphy grunted, chucking the cloth into the steel bowl before putting it aside. Following him with her gaze, fearing laying herself back down, he took a seat beside a bed on the other side of the room. It was then that she noticed the figure lying there, a hand at the edge which he cupped with his own. 

“Emori?” she asked, her voice almost inaudible. 

Murphy’s concern was unmistakable, an anxiousness more silent than that she’d seen of him the night she joined them; the first time he’d seen Emori cough up blood.

“How is she?” 

“Not as bad as you,” he replied, with an air of something else hanging on the end of his words. A beat passed, then he uttered it. “If she were, I’d have left you to choke.” 

She shuddered. She hadn’t a doubt he was telling the truth when, as far as he was concerned, she was the reason Emori was sick in the first place, even if there’d only been a few short minutes between when they discovered the tear and when Clarke gave up her suit.

There was a sound across the room, something strange she’d never heard before, then, Bellamy’s voice. “Murphy?”

Murphy scrambled to grab a radio from the ground, lifting it to his mouth, “Yeah?” 

“We think we have it,” Bellamy said. “Wake Emori and Echo and get them to Medical.” 

Echo’s heart started to race again, the thought of Medical enough to fill her with fear.

Murphy was crouched over Emori, murmuring softly until she rolled over, growling with frustration. He glanced over his shoulder at her, “Can you stand?” he asked.

She knew she couldn’t. Her legs were shaking as they were, incapable of being controlled. Grabbing the cold metal frame on the bed, she tried to haul herself up, only for the spasms in the pit of her stomach to increase. She shook her head. 

Murphy sighed, turning away from her as he went to gather Emori in his arms. “I'll get her to Medical,” he said. “Then I’ll come back for you.” 

Left alone, Echo could feel her shivering only increase. It shouldn’t have scared her, she thought, when most of her life until this point had been spent alone, but the helplessness was new to her. This wasn't a war. It wasn't a battle she could fight. It wasn't a foe she could manipulate. It was new and it rendered her completely and utterly helpless. 

The pulsating discomfort in the pit of her stomach worsened, a shiver running down her spine, the taste of copper returning to her mouth. She leaned over to reach for the basin on the ground, only to lose her balance and end up clambering onto the floor, catching herself on all fours. Through a misty gaze, she didn’t know what she did as she wretched violently, only that the blood and vomit trickled down her chin. Even as the wave of sickness slowed, her inclination to sob over the pain did little to clear her vision, or her state of mind. 

Two hands slipped beneath her arms, taking her by surprise as they whisked her backwards. “Hold still,” Murphy said. Doing as he asked, a damp cloth enveloped her face again, wiping her clean. He tucked the cloth in her hand, placing it against her chest for her to clean up the rest. “Raven and Monty are putting the medicine together,” he said. He sounded hopeful, though not fully convinced. 

“They’re physicians now?” she asked, her voice barely a croak. 

“A lot of what the doctors know is stored on a computer,” he declared. He sighed, cocking his head to one side, “Probably in case seven halfwits ever think it’s a good idea to be stuck in space without a doctor.” 

Echo broke out into a smile, unable to help it. Murphy did the same, shifting to crouch beside her, “Let’s go,” he said. He tucked an arm underneath hers, lifting her to her feet before throwing his arm across her back, nestling her in his side until she could regain her balance. She wanted to be stronger than this—she wanted to tell him that she’d be fine on her own—only she knew she couldn’t. Instead, she bit the inside of her cheek as they walked together, Murphy shouldering most of her weight. 

They were halfway down one of the long corridors when the ferocity with which her heart thundered in her chest had her coming to a stop, leaning into the cold walls. “Hey, hey,” Murphy called, patting her face as she slid onto the ground, “we’re almost there.” 

Echo cocked her head back, pressing her spine further into the wall, letting the iciness of the metal cool her down. “I’d have given it back,” she whispered. 

Murphy crouched back down in front of her, brows furrowed together, nose crinkled with confusion, “What?” 

“The suit,” she said, raking her fingers through her hair. “I’d have given it back. I wouldn’t have fought.” Murphy slumped, looking at her no less perplexed than a moment ago. “I felt sick—suit or not, I didn’t think I’d make it. I’d have given it back.”

Murphy scoffed with disbelief, shaking his head, “You stepped back!” he said. 

She swallowed the lump forming in the back of her throat, nodding as she swallowed her pride, along with the sickness. “There’s no honour in being an outcast, no honour in dying for nothing or no one.” she whispered. “Never faced death like that before.” 

Murphy scoffed, casting his gaze elsewhere, though why and for what reason she wasn’t sure. Her words, somehow, sunk in with an unwelcome familiarity, making her curious as to what he had endured on the ground. “Well, you survived,” he said, inching towards her, placing his hands beneath her arms, “so you’re not about to die now.” He pulled her off the ground with a guttural groan when she was unable to help him, carrying her until they got Medical’s doorway. 

It was difficult to make out the mess of hands on her from then on. Murphy and Bellamy carried her to the bed, laying her down and rolling her onto her side in time for her to cough up more blood. A hand combed through her hair while another held the basin beneath her mouth. 

“It’s no good if she can’t drink,” a soft voice said behind her. 

She wanted to tell them that she could—that she’d do whatever it’d take. But no words would come out, only the raspiness of her breathing. She tried to blink until her vision was clear, only for her efforts to worsen the ache of her head. 

Fading in and out, she could feel hands holding hers together, clutching them tightly to keep her from lashing out. Someone threw a blanket over her legs, only for hands to slip beneath the blanket, drawing her trousers lower from behind. It was then that she felt it—that merciless jab of a needle deep into her flesh. The panic rose in her chest, only for the hands to tighten around hers, then others holding her in place. “You’ll be fine,” she heard a voice whisper, over and over again. 

The next time she stirred she was on her back, half-propped up. There were hands on her again, squeezing one of her shoulders, then a finger tucked beneath her chin. “You need to drink,” she heard Bellamy say. 

Peeling her eyes open, the drink held out in front of her was blue, reminding her of the reflection of the sky and mountains in the icy waters of Azgeda. 

“It’ll help with the radiation poisoning,” Raven said. 

So that’s what they called it. She thought little of it, nor what their medicine would taste like, grabbing the cup between shaking hands and bringing it to her lips. She drank it more keenly than she thought possible, her raw throat finding some relief in the cool liquid. When she was finished, the cup was whisked away and she was laid back down. 

The world went dark after that. This time, there were no more aches, no more pains, no more hands, none of that. 

When she returned to the waking world, it was quiet. There was no commotion. The need to vomit was gone. All that remained was a dull ache in the back of her head and a stiffness of her unused, and overused, muscles. The silence was enough to fool her into thinking she was alone but, with a quick scan of the room, she realised that wasn’t the case.

Murphy and Emori were in a bed not too far away. Lying on his back with his arms wrapped around Emori, Murphy was awake, evident by the way he stroked Emori’s back and arm. He stared at the ceiling, looking to Emori whenever she shifted against his shoulder or breathed a short, sleepy sigh. 

“How is she?” Echo asked, her voice raspy. 

Murphy shot a glance in her direction. He seemed to scan her first, before considering her question. “Fine,” he replied. “Just tired.” 

Echo nodded, sinking her hands into the bed as she shifted, her body feeling as though it had congealed itself to the leather-like fabric of the bed. “Good,” she murmured.

“You?” 

His question had her take pause. Was he really asking her how she was? She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, searching for some semblance of sincerity in his eyes. It was there. She nodded, slowly, uncertainly. “Same,” she said.


	5. Day 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't expecting this chapter to be this long but, oh well! Here it is! Just in time for Echo Appreciation Week!

It was a long, arduous two weeks on the ark. Endless, tiresome cycles of waking, eating, working, eating and resting. They created a rhythm for their lives in Space just as they would have on Earth. Everybody was on edge for most of the time; they'd survived but there was a long road ahead if they wanted to continue to do so.

Raven and Monty came up with their action plans and everybody did their part to help bring it all to fruition. Keeping the oxygenator running was the greatest priority, with food and water following closely after. Beyond that, everything was a luxury. Restful sleep was a dream, one they couldn’t attain until everything was brought up to scratch and all there was left to do would be to wait.

Still, they all recognised the need to unwind. At the end of the day, they’d settle on a training mat, sat under the largest window on the Ring. They’d look out to the view—sometimes they’d talk about missing it, sometimes they’d keep their somber thoughts to themselves.

It was when they kept things to themselves that it was worst of all. The frustration would fester and the tensions would run high. From then on, people would say things they didn’t mean, start arguments over trivial remarks, arguments that would turn into fights nobody had the energy to pursue or to even attempt to resolve and temper.

When they realised what was happening, aware they couldn’t keep going through the same volatile cycle, they forced themselves to sit together and talk.

It didn’t come easy. Bellamy got angry—a lot. Clarke died to give them a better chance at survival and all the time they spent fighting amongst themselves was time spent squandering it as far as he was concerned.

Echo kept herself out of everything. If she didn’t talk, then she couldn’t say anything wrong. If she followed instruction, then she couldn’t displease them. So long as she kept to herself, playing a part only when asked to, she couldn’t be the cause for disagreement.

One night, the others came onto the subject of the City of Light. They were sharing their experiences, talking about how it all came about, how the thing they called ‘ALIE’ spread the way ‘she’ did.

Emori went into the City of Light—she’d been told she’d be welcomed there. She’d no longer be an outcast because of her disfigurement, nor would she feel the pain of her broken heart.

Raven talked about the pain in her leg and the strain it put on her back, so vividly, in fact, that Echo found herself pitying her. She didn’t need to wonder how smart she must’ve been to survive the way she had. In Echo’s world, a person who couldn’t run and couldn’t fight had a hard time surviving—they couldn’t hunt and, if spoiled with being given anything, they often couldn’t fight to keep it.

“What about you, Echo?”

Echo shot up at the sound of her name, startled out of her thoughts and exhaustion. “What?”

“You were in the City of Light, weren’t you?” Bellamy asked, raising a brow at her.

There was no use in lying—he was there when she’d admitted to it.

“I was,” she said, her voice weighted by her exhaustion.

“What made you take the chip?” Emori asked, a touch of judgement in her tone.

Echo shrugged her shoulders, perching her chin back onto her arms. “I was forced to take it,” she said. “Wasn’t left with a choice.”

Silence fell amongst them and when Echo looked up she found Bellamy’s mouth had fallen open, about to say something in response. The others said nothing and, in the end, neither did he. They glanced at each other at some point, as though somehow daring each other to be the first to reply.

Bellamy cleared his throat, attracting their attention. “Best get some sleep,” he said. “Still a lot to be done tomorrow, right, Raven?”

Raven nodded curtly, humming in agreement, before dragging herself off the ground.

One by one, they all left. Echo remained where she’d been sat for the last hour, her knees still drawn up to her chest. Being alone... She hated it more than she ever realised. But, worst of all, she hated she was the reason everyone was gone. If she wasn’t there, they’d be so much more better off. She considered, time and time again, doing her duties and walking away for the night, but something, something she couldn’t place, always had her lingering, eventually allowing her to settle herself amongst them.

She stiffened at the sound of footsteps. Somebody was returning, about to catch her still sitting there with little purpose. She sank her nails into her ankles, pursing her lips together, and waited.

Raven made her way in, looking more tired than when she’d left only moments before. She refused to give in to anything, not least the pain her leg often gave her, especially after a long day of rushing from one plan of action to another.

Echo watched her from beneath her lashes, surprised to find her making her way right towards her.  
She crouched down in front of her, hands clasped together over her knee. “You’re lying,” she said, bluntly, “and, for a spy, you’re not doing a very good job of it.”

Echo felt her eyes beginning to prickle with the sensation of tears—she was failing at the only thing she was known to be good at.

Raven sighed, combing her fingers through her hair. She seemed to be cursing ever turning back in the first place, with Echo discerning that she’d much have preferred heading to bed.

But Raven wasn’t one to give up, certainly not when she had a plan—it was that kind of determination that had got them into space in the first place. “The chip needs free will to work,” she said. When faced with Echo’s confusion, Raven sighed again, elaborating, “That means you couldn’t have been forced to take the chip to get into the City of Light... It means that, for some reason, big or small, you must’ve wanted to—you had to want the chip or it wouldn’t have worked.”

She was right. With heat burning into her cheeks, Echo knew she was right. She’d lied and, though she’d known it wasn’t the whole truth, she hadn’t realised how poorly she’d done so.

“We’ve got five years with each other,” Raven declared, as though Echo needed reminding. “Best if we didn’t keep anymore secrets from each other. Be honest for a change—you might find it…cathartic.”

Echo shook her head, resisting rolling her eyes at the sound of more of Raven’s big words. “Cathartic?” she asked.

She gave it a moment of thought, confirming for Echo that Raven could only think at her own level—one far superior to Echo’s. “It might make you feel better,” she said. “You might find it…freeing.” She rose to her feet with a sigh before Echo could say another word, putting on a short smile. “Get some rest,” she said. “We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

She was right; it was a long day. Despite everything she did to try to keep up with them, Raven’s words lingered in the back of her mind. It mortified her to think the others saw right through her, that they could even look at her and not call her out on her lies. She couldn’t stomach it.

If she were still in the Royal Guard, if someone had so blatantly lied to her, she would’ve cut them down. They wouldn’t just be ousted; they would be executed.

They weren’t like that. They’d oust her, maybe, if she went on this way but she didn’t think they’d save her life only to execute her. Although, nothing would surprise her.

Five years was a long time—a fact they reminded themselves of often, and a thought that frightened her more than she thought possible. When faced with the silence, faced with the loneliness… She couldn’t bare it any longer.

“The Mountain,” she blurted, her voice shaking. She spoke up only as the conversation died down the following evening, the others tempted to retire to their beds for the night. But she didn’t want them to leave before she’d said it—if she didn’t start trying to make something of their presence there, she never would, leading to a long, painful five years she didn’t think she could survive. When she found everyone looking at her, brows furrowed together, confusion in their gazes, she lowered her own, elaborating, “The Mountain,” she said again, “is why I went into the City of Light.”

Raven, having been the first to try to rise to her feet, lowered herself back down, sensing there was more to her words.

Echo couldn’t bring herself to look at them. She wanted to believe they would understand, they would be compassionate, since they’d asked for this. But, whether they would look at her with harsh judgement or tender understanding, the thought of the sight of either made her uneasy. “I wanted to forget,” she said. “I’d been there so long… I was bled…so many times. I saw people arrive and…never come back after…” She sucked in a deep breath, breathing uneasily, “When I got out, I thought I could return to my duties—do what I’ve always done. But I couldn’t forget. Couldn’t forget what I’d seen, what I’d heard, what I’d felt. It was there, playing again and again in the back of my mind, over and over and—” Her voice cracked, a breath hitching in the back of her throat.

“Echo,” Raven sighed, “you don’t—“

Echo shot a glare in her direction, her anger clouded by the glassiness of her tear-filled eyes, “You asked me to be honest so I’m trying,” she said.

“Not if it hurts you this much,” Raven said.

Echo wiped at her eyes with the tips of her fingers, perching her chin back onto her arm while keeping her gaze cast elsewhere. It did hurt. It hurt more than she could manage. She didn’t know what’d happened to her. Ever since her banishment, ever since Praimfaya, she’d become something unlike herself. The fear of all that was new, surrounded by people who had every reason to despise her, the radiation poisoning that left her vulnerable, forcing her into spending hours in Medical when it frightened her beyond reason… Subjected to one blow after another, with no time to recover, left her shaken to the very foundation of her being. Struck with the overwhelming fear, she went through all sorts of unreasonable thoughts in the dead of night. Suddenly, she despised Bellamy, and herself, for ever allowing him to convince her to keep her life. Suddenly, her greatest mistake wasn’t the action that led to her banishment—it was never plunging that knife inside of her and ending it all.

Instead, she allowed herself to be fooled into thinking she’d be of some use. Instead, she allowed herself to live, leaving her to become someone, something, she could barely recognise anymore.

“Talk,” Bellamy said. “You should, if it makes you feel better.”

It didn’t. It didn’t make her feel better. It didn’t free her. Maybe Raven was wrong—maybe that was possible. Pursing her lips together, silence fell amongst them. She could feel their gazes on her. Whether she thought it would make her feel better or not, it was expected of her.

“Do you still…remember?” Harper asked, softly.

Echo nodded, meeting her gaze from under her lashes. She did. Often. “Even the small things remind me,” she said. “The...needles in Medical, the sound Raven’s computers make,” she started, shakily. “The cold down deep in your bones at night… After a bleeding, naked, in the cage—no Azgeda blizzard compares to that cold.” It sounded ridiculous, having her mind taken back to the Mountain, all because of the cold but they didn’t look at her that way; to them, somehow, it didn’t seem as ridiculous as it sounded to her.

Understanding as they may have been, something about what she said or how she said it rendered them speechless. Seeing that she had nothing else to add, one by one, they agreed to turn in for the night.

Raven clapped a hand on her shoulder on her way up, offering her a smile that, if anything, made Echo breathe out a sigh of relief of sorts.

Feeling the way she did, Echo had no intention of lingering out in the open. Her room was somewhat cut off from the rest, a bit more of a walk, but she found herself motivated by the thought of her bed.

But, when she was there, the sleep didn’t come. Slipping beneath her sheets, resting her head on the crook of her arm, she stared at the wall across from her bed in the hope slumber would take her within the hour.

A knock on the door caused her to jump, startling her into an upright position. She went to reach for her sword beside the bed, suddenly recalling the moment Bellamy had taken it off her all those weeks ago—probably with good reason.

Enemies didn’t knock, she reminded herself as she approached the door. Pulling it open, she found Monty standing there, shifting with about as much unease as she felt. “Did I wake you?” he asked.

She shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Didn’t think so,” he murmured, smiling shakily. He shifted his weight and breathed out an uneasy sigh, looking down the dark corridor before handing her a stack of fabric he’d clutched in one hand. “Here,” he said, pushing it into her arms. She took them into her hands, leafing through the pile to find a thick, long-sleeved shirt and a woollen-sort of blanket. “I know the cold feels worse at night,” he said.

Echo felt her eyes beginning to burn again, prickling in the most persistent of manners. Pursing her lips together, she nodded, clutching all she’d been given to her chest. “Thank you,” she said.

Monty smiled again, moving to turn on his heel, “Goodnight,” he said.

He was half way down the corridor before she could bring herself to say the same.

Backing away, she draped the blanket over her bed and then slipped into the woollen-like shirt. Oversized, even for her height, it came down to well below her hips, the sleeves pooling at her elbows as her hands peeled from beneath. Warmth radiating through her, it was perfect.

Placing her head on the pillow, tucked beneath her sheets and blanket, she couldn’t help but think maybe, as always, Raven was right. Maybe one way or another, honesty did have a chance to make her feel better. And, though the memories of the Mountain were not Echo’s sole reasons for entering the City of Light, a partial truth could give her partial peace of mind—for now, it was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I'd love to have maybe made Echo reveal the whole truth with her reasons for taking the chip, I think with how little we know about her, many other reasons could've contributed to that and, considering we could be exploring more of her past in Season 6, I really wanted to keep this a bit canon-compliant. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Day 30

Walking through the long corridors of the Ring, Echo couldn’t help but wrap her arms around herself. Even as the weeks passed, she couldn’t adjust to the frigid temperatures of the ring—and she was used to the cold. It was too much too hope that their nightly rations would warm her up but, nonetheless, she made it a point to pick up her pace to get to the dining hall. 

“I don’t think she’s dangerous,” Echo heard Bellamy say. “Not to us. Not anymore.” 

“Of course you do,” Murphy retorted with a scoff. 

There was no doubt in Echo’s mind that the conversation was about her. It was bound to happen because, try as she might, there was damage she’d done that could never be forgiven, no matter what she did. It was a mistake to cling onto Harper’s kind words from the first day on the ring—they were gentle words she uttered to put her mind at rest, but they could’ve applied to anybody else—anybody except her. 

Sucking in a deep breath, trying to control the hurt, Echo made her way forward. She didn’t know what she was going to do when she entered the room but, with nothing else to do and nowhere to run, thought she’d take it as it came. 

“We saw you take her sword from her,” Emori said. Accusatory as her words may have been, the softness in her voice betrayed deeper feelings than ones of hate. 

Bellamy huffed with a growing frustration and raked his fingers through his hair, “Because she tried to kill herself before we took off the ground!” he growled, his outburst louder than he’d intended.

His words winded her, just as they did everybody else. She stopped short of entering the room, wide-eyed as Bellamy’s words sunk into the minds of his friends. Raven didn’t appear shocked in the slightest, confirming Echo’s suspicion that she’d known all along—she was easily the brightest of them all, and Echo was still holding the blade to her stomach when she’d entered the room.

Murphy and Emori went silent, shifting with some discomfort as they came to terms with the fact that they’d misinterpreted all they’d seen.

Monty, with a broken gaze and glistening eyes, looked to Harper. It was easy to see why—a range of emotions crossed her features. On the one hand, she appeared devastated by the words, sharing Monty’s glassy-eyed expression, only for her nostrils to flare as she shot a glare in Bellamy’s direction. 

With the emotions in the room running too high for Echo, what resolve she thought she had to cope with it moments earlier disappeared. She took a step back, only for her shoulder to slam into the wall. Everybody’s attention shot her way and Echo willed herself to shrink and disappear beneath their gazes. Unable to say anything, she turned on her heel and left.

She started on the path back to her bedroom and quickened at the sound of footsteps behind her. “Echo,” Harper called after her. The crushing sensation her heart bore in her chest spurred her to walk faster, ignoring the desperation in Harper’s voice. “Echo, please, stop,” she said. 

Recalling the girl’s kindness, Echo did as she asked, coming to an abrupt stop outside of her room. She clenched her hands into fists at her side, pursing her lips together as she braced herself for whatever it was that Harper was about to say. She couldn’t bring herself to look at her, unwilling to lay her eyes on her disappointment.

She stopped only a few short feet in front of her, her shoulders dropping. Even as she refused to look at her, she could feel her gaze filled with its usual kindness, a sympathy that Echo so rarely thought she deserved. “Bellamy shouldn’t have said that,” she said. 

Echo shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, feigning an indifference she knew she didn’t have, “We said no more secrets,” she said. “So, no more secrets.” 

Harper’s shoulders dropped further, her head cocked to one side, “Some secrets aren’t for others to tell,” she whispered. 

“I don’t care,” Echo said, “really.” She was...frightened, a little uneasy, ashamed too... But, for some reason, nothing made her feel worse than the look in Harper’s eyes. 

“I’d care,” Harper whispered. 

Echo’s brows twitched, furrowing together in confusion. 

Harper smiled softly, though the sadness in her eyes magnified beneath the glassiness of her tears, “I…thought we had Mount Weather in common,” she whispered, “but you and I are more alike than that.” 

She blinked, the unmistakable sensation of tears returning. She wanted to be wrong, but the look on Harper’s face as she swiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand left little room for doubt. Not only had Harper tried to end her life, the event was still fresh in her mind, very much a part of her present. The despair that consumed her, causing her shoulders to shake, had Echo wanting to inch closer and show her the same comfort and kindness she’d shown her. But Echo didn’t know how. She stood there, stunned, troubled, unsure of how to approach her, unsure of how to touch her.

“Harper!” Light on his feet, Monty quickly joined them. Contrary to Echo, Monty didn’t hesitate. At the sight of Harper’s slumped shoulders and deep frown, watching as she struck the path of tears from her cheeks, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. 

Monty whispered in her ear, his words indiscernible, leading to a gentle nod from Harper before she pulled away. She brushed her sleeves against her cheeks, mustering the best smile she could manage before looking in Echo’s direction, “I’m heading to bed,” she whispered. “Goodnight.” 

A smile, put on and uncertain, twitched at the corners of Echo’s lips for a second. “Goodnight,” she whispered.

Harper turned on her heel and left, scrubbing at her eyes as she went. Monty, however, lingered, waiting until Harper was completely out of earshot before turning his attention back to her. He licked his lips, shifting his weight uneasily. “Harper almost… Just before Praimfaya hit. We…lost a close friend to…” 

His words trailed off but Echo filled the gaps, nodding so he needn’t continue. 

Despite that, Monty did, trying his utmost to stomach the memory. “He took his own life,” he said. “Harper almost…and…” His gaze dropped, then he turned it elsewhere, wiping the tension from around his mouth, “Do we have to worry about losing you too?” 

His eyes met hers and it winded her in an instant. Unable to say a word, all she did was purse her lips together and shake her head. 

Monty nodded slowly, “Good,” he said. “We’ve lost enough friends as it is.” Just like Harper, he put on a smile, wished her a goodnight and left. 

There was that word again—friend. She wasn’t a friend. She didn’t know why they kept saying that. Her mind went back to everything she’d heard from the others—Bellamy might not have trusted her but he didn’t think her a danger, at least, he didn’t tell the others so. Murphy and Emori…they didn’t trust her in the slightest. Monty and Harper… They cared enough to follow her. They cared enough to ask… Maybe they did care. Maybe she wasn’t a friend but…maybe they saw the potential in her to be one.

**Author's Note:**

> More chapters coming from time to time! Thanks for reading!


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